When black meets white
by Millenium Roger
Summary: Susan Sto Helit switches bodies with . . . A.E.Pessimal! Is the author on crack? Read and find out.
1. Commotion in Places of Learning

**A/N: None of these characters belong to me. This story just knida popped into my head. No idea where its going or what's going to happen. Its just a hodgepodge of some characters that I like.**

The Librarian of the Unseen University was up very late one night. Or you could say he woke up early one morning, except for the fact he hadn't slept yet. He would've except that the whole section on Gardening suddenly blew off the shelf at once and he spent the next six hours chasing the books down and putting them back in their places.

He was finally done, and now he could get some sleep. He was already dreaming about bananas and chocolate-covered crickets when he saw a commotion down a dark aisle of his library. As usual in this type of situation, he went to investigate _(1)_.

"Oook!" gasped the orangutan as the commotion turned out to be a human. But not just any human...the librarian knew this human all too well. His next "ook!" was one of surprise and not a little disgust.

* * *

Susan Sto Helit rolled out of her bed and groaned. She didn't even have to look into the mirror _(2) _to realize that today was going to be terrible. 

Her hair would not be tamed and there were circles under her eyes. She'd been up late the night before grading the first graders' paintings. Despite the complaints from parents and teachers that art was objective, Ms. Sto Helit was inhibiting creativity and - more importantly - how could my son be failing first grade, Susan continued her custom. The kids were starting to wise up. All but three paintings passed her inspection.

Susan slammed the door behind her as she left. It gave her a sense of satisfaction to feel the house shake. Frowning, she took the tram to the school.

Children and teachers alike scattered before her, their faces a mask of terror at the grumpy look on her face. It had taken only one exapmle to teach them that Susan Sto Helit was best avoided when in a bad mood. They still hadn't found Mr. BigX's right foot, but his left shoulder recently turned up in the middle of Klatch.

Susan was grateful for the utter silence that reigned in her classroom for the rest of the day. Her students worked quickly, their heads down, shooting terrified glances at her every now and again.

When the lunch bell rang there was a silent stampede as every child rushed to reach the safety of the lunchroom. Susan leaned back in her chair and sighed. The day wasn't turning out too bad...so far.

Before she could reproach herself for thinking this, there a bump came from the closet in the back of the classroom. She sat straight up. The bumping sound came again. Susan stood cautiously and crept towards the closet. She knew for a fact it contained nothing but glue sticks and scissors _(3)_.

Susan put a cautious hand on the doorknob. The bumping came once again, and Susan threw open the door. The last thing she saw before everything went black was a small black box, about the size of a die that was jumping around like a Klatchian Jumping Beetle.

* * *

_(1) Its a fact of human (and monkey (not that the librarian is a monkey. Everyone who's anyone knows he's an orangutan)) nature that we apes are naturally attracted to dangerous and deadly situations. It keeps the biped population on the disc in check, naturally._

_(2) Some people are clever because their boxes can predict the temperature and weather of the day. Susan's mirror could tell her if the day would turn out "good" or "bad" as ambiguous as those terms were. They were constantly arguing over what qualified a "good" day, and the conflict reached its climax when the mirror (named George) decided to go on strike. It lasted three and a half hours._

_(3) Kindergarten scissors, that is. They can't cut wet spaghetti, let alone paper._


	2. Lance Constable AE Pessimal

On the other side of Ankh-Morpork, a certain A.E. Pessimal was shifting paper in the Watch Headquarters. He was so happy with his new job and being a part of the Watch (and having _friends_) he didn't even notice that Mister Vimes was having him do the same work as he had when he was employed in the Patrician's office.

Today was just another morning. He walked cheerfully into the building while most of the other watchmen were blearily sipping at their third cup of coffee. The workday started with paper shuffling and filing. He went downstairs at precisely twelve-oh-five and ate lunch with some off-duty officers. By one he was back in his office shuffling more paper and sorting through endless mounds of warrants and bills. At eight o'clock he turned off the light, locked the door, and left for home.

He lived in a small, well-kept house in . A.E. lived with his mother and she always had a hot supper ready for him when he walked in at exactly eight-twenty-seven. After dinner he read the newspaper and then went to bed. That was his day, every day. He loved the sheer monotony and boredom of it.

The other officers were always badgering him to get out more. Pessimal was _friends _with quite a few of them, and they often stopped by his office when they got off duty. But for A.E, being _friends_ with someone and going drinking with them were two completely different things. It had only been six months since he'd joined the Watch and he wasn't sure if he could take that step in their relationship yet.

Today, however, was turning out differently. For one thing, he was almost almost late to work. A.E. usually arrived ten minutes early and chatted with some officers for a few minutes, but today he had arrived only six minutes early, leaving him no time for socializing.

Plus, he couldn't concentrate on his work. That had never happened before, but A.E. suspected it might have something to do with the persistant tapping he had been trying to ignore all morning.

He sighed and checked his watch. It was eleven-oh-two. Getting up, he paced his room and searched for the source of the irritating tapping. It seemed loudest near the far right corner of the room. That area was a mess; it contained all the paperwork he had inherited from Vimes's floor. Pessimal usually saved it for the weekends, but today he strode over and reached into the middle of the heap.

He barely had time to register the sight of the small black cube in his hand before his world went dark.


	3. Harsh Reality

A/N: Here's the next chapter. Sorry, you don't get to find out who the mystery person from Ch. 1 is. Keep reading (and reviewing) and you'll find out!

Disclaimer: No one in this series belongs to me. I only own the plot.

* * *

Susan came swimming out of the blackness of unconsciousness with a pounding headache. She opened her eyes and realized she had no idea where she was. The room was small and cluttered and littered with paper except for a small, immaculate desk.

Groaning, she sat up and rubbed her head, her vision still bleary. It took a few econds for her to realize that she was not in her classroom anymore.

Leaping up, she ran for the door and yanked it open. Susan stomped down the hallway, glaring at every door until she found the one that was nicer than the others. She knew from personal experience that the head of this, this _place_ would be behind the door that cost more than the entire building put together.

Without even stopping to knock, she slammed the door open, rejoicing silently at the noise it made as it hit the wall. She could never resist a dramatic entrance. Striding over to the desk, she drew herself up and glared at the man behing the desk.

"Where am I, who are you, and what am I doing here?" she demanded.

The other man spoke first. He was tall and incredibly handsome but Susan had more pressing things on her mind. Besides, she already had a boyfriend.

"Um...A.E? Are you sure you're alright Big Man?"

"Do I LOOK like a man!?!" She screamed.

"Well...yes," answered the man behind the desk. "Why don't you go home A.E, all this work seems to have taken a toll on you..."

"WHY DO YOU KEEP CALLING ME A.E? DO I LOOK LIKE A FRIENDLESS LOSER?"

Both men stared at her in shock. The one behind the desk seemed to be hiding a smile.

"Alright Lance Constable Pessimal, what have the men been telling you?" he said sympathetically, leaning back in his chair.

"STOP CALLING ME . . ." Susan began, but at that point she noticed two things _(1)_. First was that there was a nameplate on the desk in front of her that read "Commander Sir Samuel Vimes" on it. The second was that the arms she was waving around wildly were not hers.

Susan had always prided herself on her pale skin but it was nothing compared to this. This arm was ghostly and covered in thick, pale hair. It disappeared into an immaculate Watch uniform with three pens in the pocket. She reached up and felt her face. It was lumpy and the features were much rounder than she was used to. The hair was - horror of horrors - a bowl cut. Suddenly, Susan didn't want to do anymore exploring.

The two men before her were staring curiously again. Susan realized that she was standing in front of the Commander of the City Watch, one of the most powerful people in Ankh-Morpork. Not only that, she had been screaming at him, and he thought she was one of his employees. Oh dear... she really had made a mess out of the situation.

* * *

_(1) Well, she actually noticed three things but the third was that one of the papers on the desk had the word "melifluous" on it._


	4. Trading Bodies: Meet Your New Teacher

A.E. Pessimal was having a very exciting dream. He was in the bathroom of the Treacle Road Watchhoure dancing on a table with a woman. It was the closest he'd ever come to a love affair, and he was very grouchy when an annoying jangling sound woke him out of the dream.

He opened his eyes and realized he was in a classroom, similar to the one that he had attended every day for thirty years when he was learning to be a clerk. He automatically shuffled to one of the small desks and sat down, patiently waiting for his teacher.

The door cracked open and a silent line of eight-year olds filed into the classroom and sat down at their desks. They were giving him short, nervous glances as they entered and in seconds there was only one little boy left without a seat.

"Why don't you sit down?" asked A.E. in his little-child voice. It had gotten him in trouble _(1)_ in the past but this time the reaction was different than he could ever expect. The child's lip trembled and he started to cry softly, almost as if he was trying to hold in the hiccouphing sobs. A.E. Pessimal looked at him in concern.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"You're in my seat Miss Susan, how can I sit down? No, I'm not being sassy, please!" the little boy swallowed his sobs but the tears were still rolling down his cheeks.

"I'm in your seat!" excalimed A.E, horrified. All those years in a classroom had taught him the sanctity of a "seat". He leapt up and tripped, sprawling flat on his stomach. There were no giggles; instead, the whole class just looked at him in horrified silence. A.E. laughed loudly to fill the uncomfortable silence but it died out very quickly in the atmosphere of general hostility.

"Well? Where do I sit?" he asked in a jolly voice as the little boy staggered to his seat. One little girl raised a shaking finger and pointed towards a commanding desk at the front of the room. A.E. was thoroughly confused but he walked up to the front of the room and sat in the uncomfortable chair with the high back. Its design was such that he could only sit perfectly straight with both feet flat on the floor.

He smiled nervously at the children, and pulled open the drawer in front of him, despite the screaming of his school-senses. In it were the usual tools of the trade - red pens, black pens, blue pens -- gasp -- a green pen...this teacher was very out-of-the-norm. He selected a blue pen and was about to close the drawer back when he noticed there was a little mirror in the drawer as well.

A.E. Pessimal was a very self-concious man and one of his major fears _(2)_ was to not look his best. So it was a reflex for him to pull out the small mirror and examine his features when oppurtunity knocked. And then...consternation. Instead of his bulbuous nose, bleary eyes and unhealthy palor _(3)_ the reflection of a strict woman with her hair in a tight bun and a large mole on the side of her nose was staring back at him.

Poor little A.E. Pessimal was not used to body-switching and the shock of seeing someone else in the mirror would have made him keel over right then and there, had he not felt a strange new sense coursing through his veins. Was it...power?

* * *

_(1) boot-to-the-deriere, tomato-to-the-head, butt-of-a-nasty-joke kind of trouble. Mostly involving an innocent-looking five-year-old with a nasty throwing arm._

_(2) along with heights, blood, taxis, ships, water, dogs, unopened mail, being late for work, sasquatches, and mimes._

_(3) of course, he saw a stern, elegant nose, perceptive blue eyes and a pearly perfect complexion. Ignorance is bliss, especially when the happiest thing in your life is work._

* * *

**A/N:** How will A.E. Pessimal handle a classroom full of students? Will Susan be able to accept being told what to do by a mere mortal? What happens when the classroom gets an unexpected visitor (no, it's not death this time!)? And what was the commotion in the library that the author forgot she put into the story because she hasn't thought about anything other than the Edge Chronicles in ages? Keep reading and find out. Next update will be . . . sometime. It won't be today but it will be before April 31. Don't worry. 


	5. Return to the Library of Terror

A/N: Wow, there's nothing like a lot of reviews to get you moving. This chapter is a load of bullshit but if you want to read it be my guest. Have you guessed who the mystery man in the Library is? There are more clues in this chapter. I really want to know who you think it is so feel free to send me any guesses or leave a review with a guess included along in the hymns of praise that you'll all be singing when you read this glorious piece of crap. Ciao!!

* * *

"So that's how I ended up here," finished the young man in the Library of the Unseen University, putting down his bottle of water. The librarian sat across from him, a huge stack of banana peels piled in front of him. It had been a long story and a highly entertaining one but now it was time to get back to business. Once again, darke magyck threatened to destroy the world and this time there was no Rincewind to help it along.

The librarian sat and contemplated the young man sitting before him for a little while. He was tall and handsome with dark hair and green eyes that were now looking down nervously at the table. Quite a different young man than last time the Librarian had met him.

"Ook," he finally said, and the young man looked up at the fat orangutan with hope.

"You really mean that? Oh thank you so much! This will make it so much easier to find those da--nged _(1) _cubes! We should start right away. I'll get the paper and pencils, you get the sphigomomanometer. I haven't had this much excitement in years!" He bustled off whistling an annoying song at the top of his whistle.

* * *

"Okay this isn't what it looks like," said Susan quickly when she finally assesed her situation. She was in a shirveled little body with no magic powers and no respect and she had just berated the Commander of the City Watch, presumably her boss. All she could hope for at this point was that the person who had entered her body was not making as much of a mess of things as she was. 

"Oh really?" asked a voice from the doorway. Susan turned and saw a tall, slender woman with wild hair looking at her coolly. "Pray tell us what actually happened then. Because there has to be a good reason that you were yelling at Mister Vimes where the whole Watch could hear you." Susan looked over the woman's shoulder and did indeed see a good number of curious faces staring back at her.

She drew herself up to her full height before she realized that that was approximately 5'11'' and slumped back down. "I don't know who you are, miss," she said in her best teacher voice. Coming from this little man it just sounded sad. "I don't know your name but I'm sure you have an _excellent_ reason for interrupting a private conversation I was having with Commander - er - Vlimes. Now if you'll excuse me."

Susan waved a pudgy hand condenscendingly at the woman, who was standing with a look of utter shock on her features. She quickly recomposed though, and when she spoke it was in a tone of contempt and barely bridled anger.

"I am Sargeant Angua and I suggest that you change your attitude Lance-Constable or someone might feel compelled to teach you a lesson!" She spun on her heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Right now messirs, where were we. Ah yes, who am I and what am I doing here?"

Commander Vimes shot an uncertain glance at the other man before speaking. "I think that Captain Carrot is the one who can answer your questions the best. I need to go get some coffee, I'll be right back." He walked quickly out of the room, leaving Susan and Carrot looking at each other, one impatiently the other bemusedly.

"Yes?" asked Susan after almost a minute of silence.

"Hmm? Oh, excuse me. You wanted to know who you were. Well, when I last checked your name was A.E. Pessimal and your rank was Lance-Constable. You work in this building, third door to the right actually. Is there anything else about you that you would like to know?"

Susan stared at him suspiciously for any sign of laughter but either this guy was completely serious or he had a great poker face. She would rather it be the former; Susan hated people who showed signs of a) lack of a sense of humor, b) complete honesty, c) unbelievable naivete, or d) all of the above. This man seemed to be a type D.

"No, I think that if you will just tell me where I can find my house I will leave. They do have sick days in this place, right? Then I'm taking one. Or maybe two or five or thirty. I won't be seeing you around in any case."

"You live at thirty-four Duckfoot Place. First left then straight for two blocks, right for another three and then a left. You can't miss it."

Susan growled inwardly. This stupid asshole wouldn't even react to rudeness. The sooner she got out of here the better!

* * *

_(1)_ Some books were very sensitive to swear words. The bronze rule in the library was don't curse; the last guy who did was eaten by a giant book-plant that surged from the darknesse betweene two alleyes and dide swallowe hime whole. Tis the Monkey's truthe, I tell ye. 


End file.
